Sunday, December 24, 2023

Christmas short story for 2023

 

Hayter for December 24, 2023

Twas a Dark and Seriously Cold Night”

A Christmas Short Story

          He was sitting on the tailgate of his pickup atop the peak of a low hill just west of Spokane. Only in his dreams had he ever felt this cold. But it would be worth it, because the weather lady had predicted that the northern lights would appear on Christmas Eve as far south as Oregon.

          It had something to do with an abnormal amount of solar flares causing the release of electrons that yadda, yadda… A view of the northern lights had been predicted a couple of months prior, yet never appeared. But this time? This time… oh, yeah! He was emotionally feeling giddy about the prospect. Physically he was freezing his keester off.

He felt the need for coffee but wasn’t up to wrestling his thermos while wearing his double-layered, fleece-lined gloves. What’s more, he already felt the need to take a leak, and the process of making that happen would sap all of his energy and patience. But now was the time for him to be a man and take care of business.

He took a deep breath before forcing his rear off the tailgate. As he tried to grasp his zipper tab with his gloved fingers, headlights from an approaching vehicle captured him in the act.  Surely the occupants of the approaching Jeep Cherokee could not determine his intent.  

The vehicle approached slowly, eventually coming to rest about 15 feet from his pickup. Two of the doors opened quickly. The person exiting the driver's side was an athletic-looking young man and his front seat passenger was a petite female.

“Have you seen anything, yet?” the boy asked, as he proceeded to shake hands with the stranger. He suddenly recognized the stranger. “Oh, my word! Mr. Henry!” He turned to the young lady approaching beside him and said, “Elaina, it’s Mr. Henry!”

          Elaina ran up and hugged the man. “Mr. Henry! Mom, it’s Mr. Henry my Political Science teacher! Remember? What are the chances?” --  “What indeed,” Stuart Henry thought.  – “Mom, come here. Mr. Henry, this is my Mom, Sharon. Sharon Graves.”

          Sharon, too was overly clothed with a knee-to-head thick woolen coat over an assortment of bulky fabrics. The only visible part of her body was a lovely face hiding inside a fleece-lined woolen hood. She stood with her arms folded. “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. I can’t bring myself to believe a lot of it, but it’s good to finally meet you.”

          “Hmm. I have no response for that, Mrs. Graves,” he said. “Look, I can imagine why y’all are here, but what I can’t imagine is why you came to this particular place to see the lights.”

          Elaina’s boyfriend Lyle said, “Mrs. Graves wanted to go alone to a remote area to see the northern lights, but Elaina didn’t want her to, so I was forced to drive them both. And, now I’m glad I did.”

          Stuart helped Lyle with one of the three lawn chairs in the back of his jeep. They placed them to the side of the tailgate of his truck, at which point Lyle took hold of Stuart’s coat sleeve, pointed to one of the chairs, and told his ex-teacher to take a seat. Before Stuart could decline the offer, Lyle and Elaina both climbed on the tailgate. Elaina’s mom looked over at Stuart and rolled her eyes. Stuart mimicked her look and said, “Uh, I see what they’re up to Ms. Graves, but please know that, like you, I’m ticked off at your daughter and Lyle for forcing me to sit in one of the lawn chairs. I obviously failed them as a teacher.”

          “Right. Your wife is apparently snuggled up in the cabin of your truck?” she said. Elaina explained to her mother that Mr. Henry was a widower, ‘causing him to ask how on earth she knew that.

 “Ms. Kraven, my Senior English teacher told our class,” she said. “I think she’s got the hots for you, Mr. Henry.”

           “Yes, she gave me every indication. I finally managed to quell Ms. Kraven’s misguided attempt toward matrimony. She is now keen on Coach Forest.”

          “Bless her heart,” Elaina’s mom said. “Look, Mr. Henry, I don’t know why you’re here, but I came to see the northern lights. Please tell me you weren’t expecting us.”

That remark spurred a discussion that ended with the daughter and her date driving off, leaving two of the lawn chairs behind. After the Jeep exited the hill, the bumfuzzled, middle-aged couple stared at the last glow of the tail lights. While maintaining her view of the Jeep-less dirt road, Sharon said, “So?”

Stuart turned and said. “So, I have got to pee. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll do just that.”

“Go! Go do your thing,” she said and walked back to the tailgate where she grabbed his thermos.”

When he returned, he apologized for his crude exit and offered up an excuse for why it took him so long. Something about having to find a way through his outerwear.

“Men. You have no idea how blessed you are. Had I been in your situation, I would have to just wet myself.”

He nodded and said, “Well, Ms. Graves, if you drink the rest of my coffee, you’ll likely get your chance.” His comment won him a smile. A lovely smile, that was even noticeable from what little he could see behind the fur-bearing hoody she was wearing. Of course, it didn’t spark any romantic feelings in him. He merely considered it pleasant. His pleasant thought dissolved immediately when he asked about her husband. He’s a jerk.

The only good thing that came from their marriage was Elaina. Following the divorce she made it a point to encourage Elaina to visit her father and his girlfriend. She deserved an Academy Award for her acting. “Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? I had to play the role of an angel. I could wring his neck, but I hate to show her that side of me. And, me telling you all of this is beginning to upset me because I don’t share my feelings much with others, but I don’t mind being angry in your presence. So, what about your wife?”

Stuart reached over, grabbed his thermos, removed the lid that she had neglected to tighten, and took a sip of cold coffee. After a failed attempt to reinsert the stopper, he placed the small cup on top of it, and handed the thermos to her.

“Oh, where to start? I guess I’ll just try to forget the part about you feeling comfortable expressing your anger while in my presence. That being said, were I your psychiatrist, I would encourage you to forget your husband. The guy’s been gone for however long, yet, you continue to let him rule your thoughts. That’s on you.”

She said, “Well, I never thought of that, Dr. Spock. Now, about your wife?”

He looked down and slowly shook his head. “Oh, no. Look, uh, okay, she died of cancer three years ago today.”

“What? Today is the anniversary of her passing? I’m so sorry. What kind of cancer did she have?”

“Brain. It’s called glioblastoma.”

 “I’ve heard of that. A friend of mine died of it several years ago. So, you came here, not so much for the northern lights as to be with your wife. This is your old stomping grounds, wasn’t it? And we ruined it for you. Look, I’m getting in the cab, you put away the chairs and take me home. I’m sorry about all of this.”

“No, no. This was Renee and my stargazing spot. We never did see the ol’ aurora borealis, though. From Iceland you’re supposed to be able to see the lights between the two “A” months.”

“Between March and November. Interesting,” she said.

Stuart grinned. “You’re very astute, mother of Elaina. However, I feel it necessary to caution you that you’re beginning to remind me of me.”

“Well, you’ve done nothing to remind me of Raymond,” she s


aid, “so that’s a good sign. Try not to lose it.”

          “I’m sure when Raymond dated you, he wasn’t himself either. Not that this is a date. This is… uh. -- When you finish with my coffee, would you please put the lid back on?”

          “No. You established no rules about your coffee. It was quite good, too, which means it’s your fault I finished it off. That was me being my husband. Unfortunately now I have to pee, so we need to forget the Borealis lights and leave. Now! While I’m getting in the truck, load up the chairs. – Again, that was my dear Raymond speaking.”

          Without running any red lights, Stuart made good time getting her home. He would’ve made better time had she been more precise with her directions. – His brakes squealed at the curb in front of her house. He hurriedly grabbed the lawn chairs and moved quickly toward the house. At least he did until he noticed her standing by the truck, patiently searching for the keys in her purse.

While holding the chairs by his side, he whispered, “You didn’t have to go, did you?”

          While giving him a smug look, she said “No. I don’t have to go now, because I wet myself on the way over.”

          He didn’t know what to say, so he merely shrugged and started walking toward her porch. While following him, she whispered, “Look, I didn’t know what to say, so I went ahead and just wet myself, so there is now no rush. By the way, beneath this hoody I’m wearing three different outfits. The last one is still dry.”

As soon as they stopped laughing, she informed him that her church had a “Grief Share” program that was starting up again the second week in January. She said she would go with him on his first visit.

He said, “I’ve been to a couple of those at my church. I was uncomfortable sharing my grief and listening to theirs. You’re more like me. Renee wasn’t like me, and I loved her for it. We just happened to love the differences in one another.”

Sharon said, “Well, that’s crazy. But, sweet. Look, I’m hosting this year’s Christmas family gathering, and I’d invite you, but I have a different personality around my family, and I don’t want you to see it. Yet. But, if you come over in the evening I’ll have a plate of leftovers for you. Just come to the door, I’ll hand you a covered dish and you leave if you wish. It’d be rude of you, but I can deal with rude. In fact, I was married to rude.”

“Well, it may be a bit early for a visit. I feel a need to hire an investigator to do a backround check. Maybe interview your ex. Find out what his slant is. I’ll get back to you early next year.”

She grinned and said, “You’re a riot. So, drop by tomorrow evening around sevenish. Stay or take the food and run. Believe me, I’m not after anything. You’re pathetic and I might can help. So, uh… okay then.”

He smiled and leaned the lawnchairs against a holly bush in her flowerbed. “The leftovers sound good. Maybe you can attend my New Year’s party. Perhaps we can play dominoes until you catch on that I hate playing dominoes. So we’ll talk or watch ‘Witcher’ reruns. Until midnight when we’ll have to kiss, because it’s bad luck if we don’t.”

As he turned to go, she whispered, “I love Henry Caville.”

Without turning around, he said, “Who doesn’t?”

As soon as Stuart started his truck, he said aloud to himself, “Renee loved Henry Cavill too.” He grinned and said aloud to himself, “What a doodle.”  

The northern lights failed to appear near Spokane on that Christmas Eve night. No matter. God was there and he touched the hearts of a couple of his lonely children who needed the gift of one another.

The End

 

Happy Christmas 2023, from Mark and Kay!

 

hayter.mark@gmail.com

         

 

Saturday, December 16, 2023

Tis the season

 

Hayter for December 17, 2023

“Tis the Season, Again”

Last Tuesday Kay and I got the idea to go to The Woodlands Mall. It had been a couple of decades since our last visit, so we decided to revisit our younger decades.

We started at the east end of Dillard’s because that’s where the parking garage was. It was the first we saw it, so I decided to try it out. It worked fine. When we entered Dillard’s, Kay took a slow walk from one end of the store to the exit at the west end.  I was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t take anything off the rack. It was certainly not like our previous visits.

From Dillard’s, we ended up walking from one end of the mall to the other, without entering any store. I take that back. I never entered a store, but Kay had to visit the store with the puppies and other critters. I never heard any monkey noises, so they must’ve been out.   

While Kay took a pet tour, I stayed over at Santa’s place. Mr. Claus looked just like he did the last time I saw him. However, in this case, there wasn’t a kid anywhere around. I felt so sorry for Santa.  I thought to go sit on his lap. Thought about it for a nanosecond. The only person inside Santa Land was an elf standing by the entrance looking at a cell phone. I thought it would seem more realistic, had the elf been carving on a hockey stick.  

It was at that point, I realized that it was near noon on a Tuesday, and the kiddos were at school. I saw a picture in the paper last week, where Santa actually visited an elementary school. On this particular day, he was taking a break.

I don’t know at what age most kids manage to sit on Santa’s lap without crying. I was 14. Actually, I never sat on Santa’s lap. Being the fifth of seven Hayter kids, I had learned from the get-go that there was no Santa. My Christmas wishes were always directed at Mom and Dad.

Later that week, I called two of my brothers, Larry and Dennis, just to see how things were going with them. I started off both conversations with the question, “Well, do you have your Christmas tree up yet?” They acted as if I asked if they still wore underwear briefs. Both of them told me that they hadn’t put up a tree in “I don’t know when!” I don’t know how long  “I don’t know” is, but I was afraid to ask

It’s a sign of something when you don’t care to put up a tree. I take it as a sign that you don’t intend to have guests during the holidays. Mom put up a tree each Christmas, which was nice because she had family over every Christmas of her life.

I don’t think there’s anything legally wrong with a person refusing to put up a Christmas tree. People from where we went to church looked all over the scriptures to find out if we were supposed to celebrate Christmas, since no evidence pointed to Jesus being born on December 25th

It was determined that it was religiously permitted to recognize the birth of Jesus on any day other than December 25. To do so would make others think that we thought Jesus was born on the 25th.  We could buy gifts for people, but that was because of Santa Claus, not Jesus. My aunts always referred to “Christmas” as “Xmas”. Saying the word “Christmas” was sacrilege, and writing the word would win you an eternity in hell.  Fortunately, we never visited Bristow, Oklahoma at Christmas.

If it weren’t for Kay, we probably wouldn’t have a tree in our house this year. If there is ever a Christmas in our house without a tree, it will be because Kay ran off with Henry Cavill, aka Superman, aka, Geralt of Rivia. I would hate the trouble of putting up, and double hate the trouble of taking it down and then boxing up all the stuff. Fortunately, she told me that she would never go with him… unless he asked. All I have to do is keep him out of Conroe. 

At the moment, Kay has placed in the living room our four-foot artificial tree atop a small table. She couldn’t find last year’s star, so I grabbed Santa’s hat and put it on top. Kay really liked it! Her actual words were, “It’ll have to do.”

This year, Jill is hosting Christmas at her house. Her invite was for “whoever wishes to come.” A third of the family so wishes. When Mom hosted Christmas, everyone showed up. Some even spent the night of Christmas Eve. We each provided a side dish, but Mom cooked turkey, dressing, rolls, corn, chicken & dumplings and sweet potatoes. Oh, and carrot salad with raisins in it! I never saw anyone eat that except Mom .

          After lunch, Mom, the brothers and sisters, grandkids, and some of the in-laws went outside to play two-below football. If it was raining, we played tackle. We were quite the family. This year at Jill’s house, we’re having hotdogs.

Next week, I hope to have another Christmas Short story for you. Till then, please order my Christmas short storybook from Amazon. It was published a couple of years back. It’s called “Christmas Storybook Stories: A Collection by Mark Hayter”. -- And, don’t pass up, “The Summer of ‘76”. It’s, like, much warmer than Christmas. – Next time.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

Worst gift-giver

Hayter for December 10, 2023

“I am the worst gift-giver”

          There comes a time in one’s life when you don’t care if you get anything for Christmas. It came early in my Dad’s life. Faris Hayter was good at so many things, but he couldn’t act worth a flip. “Daddy, do you like your new house shoes?” – “Oh, these are great! Who wouldn’t like ‘em?” I could tell right off that he didn’t want any house-shoes.

          Dad was much better at giving gifts than accepting them. He gave Dennis and me our favorite gift ever, at a time when I was in the third grade and Dennis was in the sixth. I got a 24-inch J.C. Higgins bicycle. Dennis got a 26-inch. I could barely touch the pedals on his bike. Our next best gift was a BB gun that we got two years later. We could knock clothespins off the clothesline. At least we could until Mom put a stop to it.

          Over the years, stuff like that ceased to interest me. Whatever I wanted was too expensive. And anything Kay wanted, required careful study. She likes jewelry, but I am the worst at picking it out. Clothing? Get real. There’s no way I can pick out women’s clothing. The times I’ve tried, Kay would accept it with complete sincerity just like my Dad… only she’s a better actor.

Yep, I’m no good at picking out clothing or jewelry. What I am good at is finding things you can throw, play with, or other things that look interesting. I may not know what it is, but I’ll know it when I see it. I tell you that to tell you this. I’m going online and I need help in selecting a gift for Kay. If I hear you turn the page, I’ll know you left me. – Here we go.

 The first thing I see is one of those flying orb balls. One of those glowing plastic web-encased contraptions that generally have blue light in ‘em. It looks cool as all get out. I know because Kay used to have one. Within five minutes it refused to fly, roll, glow, or emit light. The commercials for the object look fantastic. They’re fragile as a baby mallard. Advertisers were bound to have destroyed 100 of them while shooting the commercial. 

The second you let go of that thing, it will seek out the closest hard surface it can find. Wall, floor, ceiling, tree… It will hit it and hit it hard. Kay’s orb immediately found the backdoor. The collision caused an orange wire to break loose. You could see it plain as day, but to reach it you’d have to remove the plastic webbing and do some probing.

Kay is going to send it in and get her money back, but I thought it might be nice if I got her another one. Help her forget the loss of her first orb. And I would do that, were I a complete idiot. What else can I find?

Ah, here’s one of those Japanese hand-held, 36-language interpreters. I wrote about it a while back. It’s under $100. I’ve wanted one for myself, but not enough to pay for it. Nor will I buy one for Kay. Let’s face it! We live in Texas. The only other language I hear is Spanish. Fortunately, well over half of the Latin Americans I run into have bothered to learn English. I love the Poles, French, and Dutch, but those who don’t speak English need to buy a handheld interpreter. I don’t run into enough Europeans to buy one myself.

Oh, my goodness. It’s a $100 drone that costs as much as $1000 drone. How can companies make a profit on a deal like that? It defies anything factual. If I got out of the house more often, I might buy one of those things for Kay. It turns out that this particular drone, known as the Black Falcon 4K, might be one of “the best-kept secrets among social media influencers…” just as much as I might be the best-kept secret of the San Francisco 49ers.

Let’s see, here’s something called a Tinickle Pro. It’s a three-legged contraption that has octopus sucker things on all three of its legs. The story goes that you can strap your phone to it and it will attach itself to anything but cat fur. Unfortunately, Kay would never remember where she stuck her phone. -- “Kay, the last time I saw your phone, it was stuck to the BBQ pit.” -- She can’t have stuff like that.  

But, she might like this. It’s called a Sure Sleep Mask. It looks somewhat like a gray Pomeranian with straps. When you strap that thing on, it will put you to sleep in 15 minutes. By the way, astronauts supposedly use it. Regular people are easier to con than astronauts.

What I learned from the ad is that the reason we can’t sleep is because our brainwaves keep us on edge. The Sure Sleep thing closes down your brainwaves which knocks you out, At this very moment, there are 43,590 people in Sweden now sleeping thanks to their Sleep Masks.

Nowhere in the ad was the price provided. What I found at the end of the ad were the words  “Check on availability and get yours now.”  Why don’t one of you order a Sure Sleep Mask and get back to us in March?  If you give it a thumbs up and it costs less than $70, I’ll get Kay one for her birthday.

I appreciate you sticking with me as long as you did. I’ll finish up on this by my lonesome. For this to go well, I’ll need to make sure to only order something that can be returned, because that’s a happening thing.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com